


Crowned in Starlight, Cloaked in Moonlight

by Maewn



Series: Beyond the reaches of Sea, Sky and Stars [4]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Half Elf Callum AU, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: One evil is defeated, and yet another threat works from the shadows. Katolis is thrown into chaos, whilst in Xadia, Callum and Rayla seek to wake the Dragon Queen from her slumber before all is lost.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Beyond the reaches of Sea, Sky and Stars [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1283243
Comments: 39
Kudos: 131





	1. Prologue: Zubeia

**Author's Note:**

> Right, you know how I said this would be up in a few weeks...I may have lied a little.  
> Just an introduction. The next full-length chapter will pick up in a week or so.

_She dreams, she wakes, she screams_

It had been so easy in the beginning, when her husband’s corpse stood as a statue above their kingdom, to hold that wrath in her heart, to cope with the grief that had stolen over her soul, winter in a spring garden.

_She sleeps, she dreams, she wakes_

Azymondias, they had chosen the name upon the divination of the Lady Asma, daughter of Lathe, in the months following his clutching.

A blessed name, the Startouch elf had said, bowing gracefully before the monarch, a bright joy in her eyes.

A blessed child, to inherit the kingdom of magic.

A beautiful dream unfolding into reality.

Until it wasn’t.

_She screams, she sleeps, she dreams_

Dark magic comes for her kingdom.

Steals the brightest light of the Startouch, and with it, the magic forged in stolen life spreads across her lands like an infection, one that they attempt to purge, separating the land into two halves, divided by a river of fire.

Her King stands as its Guardian, until the day that dark magic steals him away too.

_She wakes, she screams, she sleeps_

Humankind take her son too, her little blessed prince

Shattering his life into shards of shimmering blue upon the grass

Her child is slain, taken from her before he could take his first breath

_She dreams, she wakes, she screams_

She vows vengeance, her heart sick with rage and grief and sorrow.

It takes but a year until her assassins creep through forests of Katolis

The message reaches her, though none of the assassins return

Yet another loss to humanity’s hands

Her heart is stone in her chest as she lies in her cavern,

curled about the spot where her son had slept, dreaming within that azure speckled shell

She closes her eyes,

_She dreams, she dreams, she dreams._


	2. Rayla I

Dawn is breaking over the ridge of the nearby mountains and Rayla cannot help but worry, her stomach in knots.

It’s been hours since she, Samos, and Azymondias arrived at the Sacred Mountain, and there has been no sign of Callum and the others.

The plan had been to see the Dragon Queen, but Samos had changed their mind upon arrival, choosing instead to wait until the Queen Regent, ‘Masa, returned from her morning flight.

“We should explain to the Queen Regent first,” they had said, “she will know how the Queen is faring.”

“Don’t you already know how she is doing?” Rayla had asked.

“I have not visited Her Majesty in nearly a moon,” Samos had said with a shrug, “Much can change in so short a time. You know this all too well. And still we do not know if His Highness can wake his mother.”

Rayla had had to concede that they had a point.

Now, Samos was meditating on a nearby rock, wings folded neatly behind them, while Zym had begun to dig a small hole in the ground, searching for bugs.

“Zym,” Rayla says, snorting as the little dragon struggled to pull a dust-worm out of its hiding spot. “You’re not gonna get the worm.”

Dust worms have powerful jaws, Rayla knows, and would clamp onto the walls of their homes if they were ever yanked out. The armor plating on their sides would keep them safe from the jaws of most predators, and so only the Lightfeather birds hunted them-their beaks capable of snapping the worms in half with ease.

Zym continues to pull on the worm, whining.

“Zym, you know that the worm is at least five feet long,” Rayla says.

Zym makes a questioning sound around his wriggling prey.

“Yeah, five feet,” Rayla says, crouching beside the prince. “Bigger than you.”

Zym grunts, pulling his head back, straining before letting go in surprise as a portal snaps open not ten feet from them.

Rayla springs to her feet, bracing.

Ladwyr appears first, supporting Lujanne, who is paler than Rayla has ever seen, her robes bloodstained and torn.

Phi-Phi limps after, followed by a small contingent of Moonshadow elves, all haggard and battle-weary.

Rayla cranes her neck, searching. _Where is Callum? Where is her best friend?_

At last, Callum steps through, his father just behind him, the portal closing after with a soft thud.

“ _Callum,”_ Rayla breathes, and runs to meet him, throwing her arms around him.

“Hey, Rayla,” he says, hugging her back. “Told you I’d come back in one piece.”

“And breathing,” Rayla says, “That’s important too.”

“Yeah,” Callum agrees with a chuckle, “that too.”

There is an emotion in his eyes that Rayla isn’t quite sure how to categorize, not quite relief but...maybe something more? Rayla tucks that bit of information away for a later time, and refocuses.

“What happened?” she asks.

Callum shifts, stepping back. “Well, for starters, we stopped Viren….um...Alab...kind of turned him to ash?”

“ _He will trouble us no longer,”_ Aaravos says, and Rayla can see that one arm is wrapped in bandages, red seeping through, _“I wish we could have saved more.”_

“Yeah,” Callum says, glancing past Rayla towards the other Moonshadow elves, who are hovering about Lujanne and Ladwyr.

“You saved as many as you were able,” Lujanne says, shaking off Ladwyr’s arm as she stands upright, still wobbling. “And more than I expected responded to my call for aid. I am glad we were able to hold him off for as long as we did. If the emergency portals had not worked...I do not like to think what might have happened.”

Aaravos frowns, mouth twisting but nods acceptance.

“ _The rituals for burial will be held in the next fortnight,”_ Ladwyr says, _“We will take that time to inform kin, and preform the necessary rites.”_

Rayla winces. She’s seen too many burials in the past years, participated in too many to count.

“How many lost?” she asks.

“ _Fifty, mostly from Whitehollow, a few from Silverymoon, and three from Brightstream,”_ Ladwyr says.

Rayla flinches. “Who from Silverymoon?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from shaking. _Please, please, not Uncle Ethari._

“ _Ellar, Beema, and Gwenthelau of Clan Issos, and Caris of Clan Firheart, and Phamos of Clan Birch,”_ Ladywr says.

Rayla closes her eyes, feeling both overwhelming relief and the sudden rush of grief.

Caris had been a battlefield healer, and the village midwife. She had attended Rayla’s birth, and had taught her how to find the proper herbs for healing and how to bind small wounds. She’d basically been her aunt.

And now she was gone, just like Runaan and the others of her team...

“Rayla?” Callum asks, touching her arm.

“Um...Caris was...um...like my aunt,” Rayla says, feeling the tears cling to her eyelashes. She takes a shuddering breath, pushing down her feelings. “Has… has anyone told Uncle Ethari yet?”

“ _Not yet,”_ Ladwyr says. _“We will be returning to the villages in a few hours. For the moment, we must inform the Queen Regent of what has happened.”_

“She is descending,” Samos says sharply, and Rayla opens her eyes to see a dragon with silvery scales and white wings, land on the ridge closest to the mountain.

**What has happened?** A voice booms out, deep and commanding.

Samos rises from their place, offering the Queen Regent a low bow.

Rayla hastily follows suit, and she can see Callum do the same, Aaravos at his side.

“Regent ’Masa,” Samos says, “The Moon Nexus was attacked, and though the threat is no more, the Moonshadow sustained losses.”

**Who was this threat?** ‘Masa demands, her voice sharp, blue eyes shining like lightning, **I would know their name.**

“ _His name,”_ Aaravos says, stepping forward, glowing with soft light, _“Was Viren, formerly of Katalis. A mage who delved too deeply into dark magic and paid for it with his life. He sought to strike against your sister, noble Zubeia, in her sleep. He sought vengeance for the death of his King, Harrow of Katolis, whom your sister sent assassins for in retribution for the murder of her King.”_

‘Masa stares him down, wings flaring up, casting a long shadow that stretches to the very base of the mountain.

**Your face, Star-bright One, is familiar to me.**

“ _I am Aaravos of the Startouch,”_ Aaravos says, _“Once I stood as Paragon of elvenkind, and have returned, thanks to the efforts of my kin, and of our Gods.”_

‘Masa’s nostrils flare, her voice a low growl. **You were slain by Dark magic.**

“ _I was not,”_ Aaravos says, _“I was imprisoned. I sought to teach humanity Primal magics, as was their right as children of this world. My pupil sought a faster way of learning and so birthed Dark magic. She did this, by stealing a piece of my heart, and spreading the knowledge across the world in her wake. She left me mortally wounded, and fled.”_

Aaravos pauses, almost as if he expected ‘Masa to interrupt him, but the Queen Regent settles back on her haunches and studies him.

**Continue. There is much that the Council has kept from my sister, I know this. We were told you were slain; and that the mirror that my sister and her mate guarded held the mage that slew you. A terror unlike anything this world had ever seen.**

“ _It was a prison, yes,”_ Aaravos says, _“But it was mine. The Darkness that my pupil had left in her wake, would have consumed my soul eventually, and the prison would have collapsed upon such an event, ensuring that I would not threaten the world.”_

**And yet here you stand, untainted by Darkness, shining like the Stars Themselves.**

“ _I was...blessed by my Gods, purified by Their Power but without the aid of my son, my Sihr,”_ Aaravos says, turning to Callum and smiling warmly, _“I would not be standing before you, noble ‘Masa.”_

‘Masa’s bright gaze swings to Callum, and Rayla cannot help but tense.

**You are something different,** ‘Masa says, and her shape looms large as she leans towards him. **What manner of creature** _ **are**_ **you?**


	3. Interlude: Ezran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each morning, Ezran wakes to darkness and the quiet chirping of Pip at his side.
> 
> And each morning, he closes his eyes against a world he cannot see, hoping against everything that all will be normal once he opens them again.
> 
> And each morning, only Darkness.

Each morning, Ezran wakes to darkness and the quiet chirping of Pip at his side.

And each morning, he closes his eyes against a world he cannot see, hoping against everything that all will be normal once he opens them again.

_And each morning, only Darkness._

Ezran sighs, and goes feeling for his clothes.

He and Pip have developed a system now, and Ezran has the motions mostly down, as long as the outfit is simple enough. Anything complicated is simply out of the question, at least, without help.

“Good morning, your Majesty,” a voice says at his left as he leaves his room.

“Good morning, Cleo,” Ezran says, offering a smile in the direction of the speaker.

Cleo is one of Opeli’s assistants, re-assigned in the wake of the...accident, as Ezran’s guide around the castle. She reads him letters from other royals, writes his replies, and describes the world about them.

“Ezran-!” Soren’s voice is shocked, and Ezran tilts his head in the direction he thinks the knight is.

“You will address His Majesty with respect,” Cleo scolds.

“Cleo, it’s fine,” Ezran says, waving a hand, the edges of his fingers brushing against her robes. They feel almost like how Opeli’s robes feel, the texture of the fabric tightly woven.

“How...how are you doing?” Soren asks.

Ezran considers his voice when he speaks; now that he can’t see faces, he’s come to rely on vocal tells to give him context for emotions.

Soren sounds concerned, genuinely so, but...Rayla had been so suspicious of Soren and Claudia, and had been right to be, as it had turned out…

“I am alright,” Ezran offers at last.

“That’s...something at least,” Soren says after too long a pause. “Opeli has me and Claudia looking through the rest of Dad’s papers, seeing if there is anything that can help.”

Pip croaks, shuffling on Ezran’s shoulder, nudging his head against Ezran’s.

Ezran gets a sense of _supportstrengthpride_ from the Songbird, and smiles.

“Your Majesty,” Cleo says, a gentle reminder in her voice, “we still have work to do.”

Ezran nods. “I’ll speak with you later, Soren. Please let me know if there is anything you or Claudia need.”

“I-I will, King Ezran,” Soren says, seeming startled. “Thank you.”

Cleo guides Ezran on, past the silence, into the quiet tranquility of the library.

It’s only later, sorting through the encounter as he listens to Cleo transcribe another letter to be sent out, that Ezran wonders how much Claudia and Soren knew of their father’s work.

Claudia knows dark magic, that much is certain but Soren...Ez is pretty sure Soren knows very little of magic, other than it does “things” that can be useful.

Feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, fingers stroking Pip’s head, the feathers soft and smooth under his hand, Ezran comes to a decision.

“Cleo, can you send for Claudia?”

The sound of the quill stops, “Are you sure, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Ezran says.

“As you wish, your Majesty.”

Claudia arrives soon after, and her voice is as soft as Ezran has ever heard it.

“Oh, Ez,” Claudia sighs, and her robes rustle as she comes to stand before him.

“Hi Claudia,” Ezran says, ignoring Cleo’s miffed hiss at the informality. “How bad is it? No one will really tell me.”

“Uh...can I touch your face?” Claudia asks, “I just need to examine the….uh damage...”

“Okay,” Ezran says.

Claudia’s fingers are cold, as if she’s been touching ice, and Ezran flinches.

“Sorry,” Claudia murmurs, tilting his head back, examining, “I’ve been in Dad’s storage room, looking around. It’s pretty cold down there.”

“It’s okay,” Ezran says.

Claudia’s fingers press beneath his eyes, drawing his eyelids down as she continues her study.

“You’ve not seen any light at all after the...um...incident?” Claudia asks.

“None,” Ezran answers.

“Any pain in your head since?”

“Uh, no.”

Claudia’s fingers tap at the sides of his head, almost as if she were drumming her fingers against a desk.

“Any pain when I do that?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a good sign,” Claudia says softly, turning his head to the left. “Any other changes that you’ve noticed?”

“No,” Ezran says.

Claudia hums, turning his head to the right this time. She finishes her examination.

“Well, Ez, it’s…not great...but I think it’s reversible. As to how it looks…your eyes look the same, mostly, but...your pupils are white, instead of black...which I think might be a side effect of the trap that Dad placed on the bag.”

“Trap?”

“A kind of booby-trap, from what I can tell,” Claudia says hurriedly. “He didn’t want anyone peering into that bag but him. So, booby-trap.”

“And it’s not permanent?” Ezran asks, hope swelling in his chest.

“I don’t think so,” Claudia says. “I think I can reverse it, I just need to dig through Dad’s notes, which is going to take some time. He encrypted a lot of his research, so I need to decrypt it to find anything useful.”

“That’s good news,” Ezran says, grinning at her. “Thanks, Claudia!”

He may not be able to see her, but he can almost hear her smile of gratitude.

“Thank you, Ezran, for trusting me,” Claudia says, “I know we’ve...been through some things...but...thank you for trusting us. I’ll do my best to find a cure for you, I promise.”

Ezran listens to her voice, and finds only honest sincerity in her words, no deceit or double meaning.

He nods. “I believe you will, Claudia.”


	4. Callum I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Happy New Year's Eve! May this next year be filled with joys more than sorrows, with beginnings more than endings and may our partings be all the more glad for our reunions!~

Callum stares into ‘Masa’s eyes, caught in her ancient gaze.

There is power here, old and vast as an ocean yet as boundless as the sky, Callum can feel it, the weight of it almost enough to push him to the ground, but he gathers his strength and remains standing.

“I am a half-elf,” Callum says, “My mother was Sarai, Queen of Katolis, my father is Aaravos of the Startouch.”

‘Masa examines him. **You are not so old to have been born before your father’s imprisonment.**

“ _There were...strange circumstances,”_ Aaravos says softly, _“Sarai found me, not the other way around. But that is a tale that will take some time to tell, and there is another here who would see the Queen herself.”_

‘Masa lifts her head, casting a glance over the group, searching.

Then she folds her wings in tight, slinking down the rock, almost cat-like in her movement. Callum darts out of her way, Rayla grabbing his arm to pull him further back.

When next the Regent speaks, it is a language that Callum has heard only once; Draconic.

Zym immediately replies, standing up on his hind legs to press his head against his aunt’s snout, purring happily.

Callum grins at the sight, Zym reunited with a family member at long last.

A deep rumble seems to shake through the air; ‘Masa too is purring, joyful at the return of her nephew and the kingdom’s heir.

**To whom do I owe such thanks, that our miracle is returned to his rightful throne?** ‘Masa asks, looking to the assembled group before her.

“My brother, Ezran, is the one who found Zym’s egg,” Callum says, “he would have returned Zym with us, but...we...Katolis needed him more. So he entrusted Zym to us, and we have brought Zym home.”

‘Masa hums, thoughtful.

**Such a tale must be told in its entirety,** she says, **Come, you will be honored guests at our table. We will call a Clanmeet in time, for there are many matters that must be resolved from the whispers that spin around our sister’s throne.**

She nudges Zym up to her shoulder, balancing him on her back. Zym chirps, delighted.

**Follow,** ‘Masa says, taking flight.

An order, not a request.

Rayla tightens her grip on Callum’s arm, pulling him forwards now, following ‘Masa up the stone stairs that spiral around the mountain, rising into the clouds above.

“Have you ever been up the mountain?” Callum whispers as he watches ‘Masa circle past, Zym’s happy squeals drifting back on the wind.

“Not that I can remember,” Rayla says, “I know that the King and Queen live at the very top, in the Cavern of Silver Quartz, and above that is the Pavilion of Ages, where legend says the very first Dragon Queen held council.”

“ _The first Dragon Queen was named Elstrid, the Gentle,”_ Aaravos says behind Callum, _“And she chose no mate, but laid an egg that hatched the Princess Amalthea, who carved the canyons and mountains of Xadia’s southern reaches upon her mother’s passing. It is from her that his Highness is descended, and from what history has told of her, she was much the same as Zym is now. Free-spirited, curious, and above all else, kind.”_

“Sounds a bit like Ez,” Callum says.

“It does,” Rayla agrees, grinning, before she looks back at Aaravos, smile slipping just a little, “Do you know when the last Clanmeet was held?”

Samos, gliding on a current of wind beside them, speaks up, “There has not been a Clanmeet in over two hundred years, the last one was held upon the resurgence of a plague in the southern parts of Xadia.”

“ _That one was held at the Opal Pavilion,”_ Ladwyr says, _“Though I believe that Topaz has the right of hosting this time.”_

“Yes,” Samos says, grimacing, “Which would be Councilor Morwen.”

Lujanne, who is slowly making her way up the stairs, supported from behind by Phi-Phi, snorts.

“Can he really be called a councilor? The man is intent on avoiding his duties to his people, as well as his family. Young Eli has been forced to take over most of the tasks, and they are due to give birth soon, from what your Councilor Amrys has told me.”

Samos eyes Lujanne with a wary squint, “Amrys never said she spoke with you.”

“We have tea every month,” Lujanne says sunnily, “And she never complains about the food, unlike _some_ people.”

“It is _worms,_ Lujanne,” Samos hisses, “ _Worms!”_

“So?”

Callum muffles a snort of laughter behind one hand.

“ _Either way, a Clanmeet is only called to discuss matters of change, threats to Xadia, or other such extreme issues,”_ Aaravos says, frowning.

“Like the return of an heir?” Callum asks.

“ _Perhaps,”_ his father says, his expression pensive, _“One such as you is new to the world, what portents the Regent may see in that, I do not know.”_

“Do not forget you have allies,” Lujanne says, “Callum has been nothing but kind and honest. I will vouch for his character, and I am sure that young Rayla can as well.”

“Yes,” Rayla says immediately.

Callum grins at her, and she blushes, her hand dropping from his arm to hold his hand properly.

There is a warmth in his heart when he looks at her now, after all they’ve been through together. She’s his best friend.

He thinks that maybe, he might be hers too.

“Almost there,” Samos murmurs, gliding forward to land ahead of them, wings folding back.

They trace some symbol in the air, too fast for Callum to see what it looks like properly, and then there is an archway before them, made of gleaming opal stone, inlaid with runes that seem to swirl like the waves of the ocean.

“This is the Gate of Faith,” Samos announces, turning around, “Step through and be judged worthy to enter the chambers of Her Majesty, Zubeia, Second of Her Name, Ruler of Xadia, Jewel of the East, and Matron of Storms.”

Their eyes shine with their magic, vivid and bright.

Callum steps forward, no hesitation in his heart; he promised Ez he would see this through to the end.

So, with Rayla at his side, he steps through the Gate.


	5. Rayla II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping through the Gate feels like being wrapped in a warm hug, and Rayla laughs, the sound bubbling out of her, a lightness of spirit that she has not felt in years suffusing every fiber of her.

Stepping through the Gate feels like being wrapped in a warm hug, and Rayla laughs, the sound bubbling out of her, a lightness of spirit that she has not felt in years suffusing every fiber of her.

Callum is grinning as she looks to him, stopping just a few feet from the other side of the Gate.

“Easy-peasy,” Callum says.

“That’s what you think,” Samos says, crossing through the Gate, the rest of the group following without incident.

“It’s more complicated than that?” Callum asks.

Samos smiles; it is not a kind smile.

“So much _more_ than that,” they say, sweeping past Rayla, their shoulders tensing as they take flight again, “This way.”

Rayla squints at the Archmage. She is not an Skywing elf, so she cannot reach the Arcanum that flows through Samos, that flows through all Archmages, living conduits of magic itself, but even she can sense that here, at the Sacred Mountain, Samos is at the height of their power.

Callum follows Samos’s movement with his eyes, a considering expression on his face.

“ _Now is not the time, my son,”_ Aaravos murmurs. _“Flight is something that takes years to learn for those not born to Sky.”_

“Could you do that?” Callum aks.

Aaravos smiles, _“I can, though it has been a long time since I_ _have danced on the winds of Xadia.”_

“I would not do so here,” Samos calls, “The Dragonguard are quite defensive when it comes to the Queen’s safety.”

“You seem to be doing fine,” Rayla points out.

Samos snorts, “Trust me, I’ve had to dodge many a spell before the Dragonguard managed to figure out the Gate. Shame we didn’t have that during the reign of His Majesty, Avizandum. Perhaps his Highness would not have been stolen from us.”

Rayla wonders what kind of a world that would have been, if Avizandum would have still fallen to humanity’s wrath, if she and her kin would have still been sent to Katolis, if Ezran would have survived that bloody night, if Callum would have become king instead…

 _There is no use dwelling on the path that has already been walked,_ Aunt Caris had once told her, as she smoothed salve into a scraped knee, _You must focus on the path ahead, and face those obstacles as they come. Remember the past, but do not dwell on it._

She shakes off the dark thoughts with effort.

“Rayla?”

“I’m fine, Callum,” she says, “I was just thinking about what-ifs. But we cannot change the past, so best not to dwell on it.”

“ _A wise choice,”_ Aaravos says softly. _“Though not an easy one.”_

“Yeah, well,” Rayla replies, shrugging, “Life’s not a walk in the Moon-ponds, you know.”

“Moon-ponds?” Callum asks, mystified.

“They’re a series of small pools that are scattered through the forest around Silverymoon,” Rayla explains, “They glow because there is a kind of lichen that soaks up the moonlight in them, and you can easily walk through the forest when the moon is dark. Much simpler than stumbling around with a torch, so when we say ‘a walk through the Moon-ponds’ we mean it’s easy.”

“Ah, like a ride on a sheep-goat,” Callum says, nodding his head.

“A...what?”

“A sheep-goat? Do you not have those in Xadia?” Callum asks. “Oh, hang on, I can draw one for you!”

He whips out his book and pencil, scrawling a doodle of a fluffy creature with curling horns and stubby legs.

It’s...rather cute actually.

“They are sooo fluffy!” Callum gushes, “In Katalis, they mainly roam around in the hills further north. If you’re nice enough, they’ll let you take some of their wool. They also really like belly rubs and apple tarts.”

“ _I take it you know this from experience?”_ Aaravos asks dryly.

“Yep!” Callum chirps, “Mom and Aunt Amaya used to have a house there, so we lived there before Mom married King Harrow. We ended up selling to a potion merchant before we moved to the capital, I think.”

“I’d like to see the sheep-goats, one day,” Rayla says.

“You will love them,” Callum promises, grinning at her.

Eventually, the pathway narrows, until the group must walk single file, Rayla gently pulling Callum along behind her.

The steps here are weathered, worn by the ages, and Rayla can barely see hints of spirals along the stone.

“Here we are,” Samos announces, as the group comes to a stop beside a massive entryway made of obsidian flecked with blue, wisteria blossoms hanging from its uppermost edge, the purple flowers swaying in the light breeze.

“The Cavern of Silver Quartz, where Her Majesty still slumbers,” Samos says, resting a hand against the obsidian, the stone seeming to glow beneath their hand for a moment.

Inside, ‘Masa has already arrived, Zym clinging to her horns, chirping with delight as the Regent slowly walks across the mossy floor.

The ceiling towers above, but Rayla can still see its heights, outlined in glowing lichen that lends a soft light to everything within.

‘Masa comes to a slow halt, allowing Zym to tumble off her head into a pile of fluffy, green umbra flowers. Zym reappears, one springy leaf clinging to his horns.

“He’s adorable,” Callum whispers.

“Yeah,” Rayla agrees.

Just beyond the current chamber, Rayla can see another archway, this one formed of a white marbled stone, the sound of deep breathing audible from within.

‘Masa settles into a crouch on a nearby dais, which Rayla realizes must be a draconic version of a throne. It is much larger, meant to hold two dragons, as ‘Masa takes up only half the space, though there is still a sense of regal bearing about her.

 **Be seated.** ‘Masa says, her proud gaze sweeping over them all. **I would speak more with you before you see my sister.**

Rayla sits down on the floor, Callum beside her.

Aaravos settles on his other side, legs folded gracefully beneath him, a style that Rayla knows to be more formal and archaic.

Samos and Ladwyr sit the same way, formal and poised beside their fellow Archmage.

 **Long are the years that have passed, and dark the skies have grown,** ‘Masa says, **but perhaps there may be light shed upon what has long been lost to history.** **First, however, we must start at the beginning, with the loss of our King, of Avizandum’s death upon the fields of Iltrid.**

She nods at Samos, who rises, bowing to the Regent, before they turn to face the seated assembly.

“Years ago, His Majesty, Avizandum, was slain through dark magic, turned to stone upon the grassy fields of Iltrid. Her Majesty, Zubeia, was hunting in the far east, and her heir, newly birthed, remained under her husband’s protective eye,” Samos pauses, a haunted look in their eyes, but continues.

“That morning, I arrived to the Sacred Mountain to find it empty, and having approached from the north, had not seen Avizandum petrified. I found no Dragonguard present, indeed, no guards at all were there.

“Many signs I saw of battle, of stone scorched by fire, and split by ice. I felt Darkness seeping through the mountain...and in the depths, in the very heart of the mountain, where Their Majesties slept...I found ice and—I—”

Samos pauses again, looking over at Zym, a kind of expression that Rayla can’t quite describe on their face, a mix of sorrow and joy and purest _grief,_ their voice hushed when next they speak, but their words are still heard throughout the chamber.

“I found the remains of his Highness’s shattered egg, and within it, His Highness’s body.”


	6. Callum II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum is frozen in place, staring at Zym, who is munching his way through a rather large leaf.
> 
> Alive and well, Callum reminds himself, tearing his gaze away to stare at Samos.
> 
> “How?!” Callum rasps, the words like broken glass in his mouth.

Callum is frozen in place, staring at Zym, who is munching his way through a rather large leaf.

 _Alive and well_ , Callum reminds himself, tearing his gaze away to stare at Samos.

“How?!” Callum rasps, the words like broken glass in his mouth.

Samos looks at him, and their bright eyes are edged with tears that they are futilely trying to wipe away.

“ _What we have since come to realize_ _upon the discovery of His Highness, alive and well_ _,”_ Ladwyr says, rising from her seat, coming to stand beside her fellow Archmage, _“Is how_ _the theft of his egg was done. A solid illusion that, as much as Dark magic permeated this sacred place, would be unable to be seen as a cheat._ _No doubt the mage_ _who invaded this sanctum_ _used the magic within the plants and the scales that Their Majesties would have left behind to make a false egg and replica of the precious child within.”_

She bows to the assembly, resuming her place beside Aaravos.

 **Thank you for your explanation, Archmage Ladwyr,** ‘Masa says, her deep voice rumbling through the stone beneath Callum’s boots. **Pray, Archmage Samos, continue.**

Samos nods, collecting themselves, brushing away their tears and clearing their throat.

“Forgive my lapse, Regent,” Samos says, bowing to ‘Masa, “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

 **It is not an ill thing, Archmage,** ‘Masa says, **for we draw strength from o** **ur** **emotions. You care deeply for the safety of his Highness, and for that we are most grateful.**

Samos bows again, clasping their hands before them as they continue, “Immediately, I called for Her Majesty, and upon her return, the very heavens trembled before her rage and grief. The sun itself did not shine on the mountain’s peak for seven days.

“Our kingdom fell into mourning, and soon after, Her Majesty began to plot her vengeance, and eventually sent Moonshadow assassins into Katolis, whose king had killed His Majesty, Avizandum. The mission succeeded, though none of those brave souls returned to Xadia, save the young Rayla, who has, alongside Sihr, son of Aaravos, brought His Highness back to us. I know not of how they accomplished it, as I was only party to the last leg of their journey here,” Samos says, turning to ‘Masa, offering her another bow.

 **Be seated, Archmage Samos,** ‘Masa says, dipping her head, **You have our thanks. Now, Aaravos, Archmage of the Startouch, I would have tell of your part of this story before I would call on the younglings to speak their piece.**

Aaravos stands, and Callum remembers just how tall his father is, towering over the seated assembly, robes sweeping behind him as he steps up to the dais, bowing to the Regent.

“ _Where would you have me begin?”_ he asks, hands clasped before him, a pose that Callum has seen many a night during his lessons on magic.

‘Masa snorts, the sound almost amused.

**Where else, Morning Star, than the beginning of Dark Magic? Tell us of your apprentice, tell us the truth of her that has been hidden so long.**

Callum watches as his father shifts, moving so his hands are clasped behind him, fingers going bone-white with pressure.

“ _Have you any here that are skillful in discerning truth?”_ Aaravos asks. _“For I do not wish to be accused of twisting this tale to suit a narrative that would benefit myself alone.”_

‘Masa eyes him, a draconic smile stretching across her snout. **Yes; there is one among my court that I would trust to discern the truth in this matter.**

She shifts, talons curling over the edge of the dais, **Come forth, Phyrinia!**

The words reverberate, and before the last echoes die away, a tiny elf steps from the shadows to stand beside the Regent.

She has to be the shortest Moonshadow elf that Callum has ever seen, shorter than Rayla, though not stooped with age.

Her pale hair is intricately braided and pinned to her head, grey eyes carefully watching the assembly, the faintest of smiles on her youthful face.

“Yes, Regent?”

**There is a tale that must be told, Phyrinia, and I would leave no doubt as to its truth. I entrust this task to you.**

Phyrinia bows, “It shall be done, Regent.”

She spreads her arms, palms up, and her voice, makes Callum shudder, though he isn’t sure why.

“ _By the decree of her Majesty, Queen Regent ‘Masa, Guardian of Xadia, and Jewel of the West, any words spoken here until the moon sets shalt hold the truth and naught but the truth. No falsehood shalt be uttered here under the eyes of our Gods and Her Majesty. So do I speak, and so shalt it be.”_

Callum feels magic shift around them, almost like chains, but not quite, binding them all to speak truly.

Phyrinia clasps her hands together, kneeling beside ‘Masa.

 **You may speak, Morning Star,** ‘Masa says.

Aaravos nods, turning to face the assembly.

His eyes meet Callum’s, and Callum gives him a reassuring smile.

Aaravos’s eyes are warm, and he returns the smile.

“ _It was in the spring, that I met her. A child of mortal blood, caught in one of the sinkholes that are so treacherous alongside the Illithen swamp._

_I rescued her, and upon finding that she was an orphan, took her on as an apprentice. No one else would have cared for her, she said._

_Elarion was her name. She was fifteen summers at the time and took to magical theory like a moth to the wind. She devoured knowledge, and by sixteen was able to briefly tap into a thunderstorm, casting lightning from the sky like any who were born to it.”_

Aaravos’s voice is fond, but his eyes grow dark as he touches the star on his chest, no longer darkened by corruption.

“ _But she grew impatient with the rate of her learning, insisting that there must be a way to cast as swiftly as we elves did. In time, her research led her to an idea from which Dark magic would be born. However, she needed power to make this idea reality, so she chose the most powerful being she had easy access to._

“ _She came to me in friendship, smiling with her victory, and as I embraced her, she took from me a shard of my heart, the root of my power, and left me to die.”_

Aaravos closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he continues.

“ _My screams were heard by another of my people, Aldric, child of Altria, and it is to them that I owe a life-debt that I cannot repay. Their skill, combined with my lady mother’s and Archmage Ladwyr, dragged me back from death’s threshold many times in the months before the Council met to decide my punishment._

“ _By then, Elarion had been executed, drowned for her crimes. I did not learn what became of the shard of my power until much, much later, believing it to have been consumed by her spell. She left within me, a seed of Darkness, that began to spread despite my healers’s efforts._

_The Council decided that I was to be cast into a place between worlds, a prison with no escape, for I had sought to teach a human Primal magics, breaking the laws of our ancestors. That I would be consumed by the Darkness as part of that punishment, no doubt seemed fitting to their minds.”_

Aaravos pauses, _“I’ve learned that my heart-shard was sealed away by blood, and over time lost, eventually arriving in the hands of my son, Sihr.”_

 **Ah yes,** ‘Masa says, **a child of mortal and elven blood. How did you meet his mother, when you were locked away so long ago?**

“ _Sarai said that she found a mirror, inside one of the many tunnels that burrow beneath Katolis’s soil, and that there were many, many fractured mirrors there, all once used as I understand, to transport elves across the continent,”_ Aaravos says, _“One held enough power to transport her to the small prison I now called home. Only there, and no farther. She stayed with me for three years by my count, and during that time we courted and wed. Upon learning that I was to become a parent, I searched for a way out, and attempted to open a portal to Sarai’s homeland._

_I succeeded in getting her through, but not myself. I was injured in the attempt and suffered grievous wounds, and for a long time after, I could not even remember I had a wife and child in the world that had left me behind.”_

‘Masa seems to mull over the information, humming softly.

**Phyrinia?**

“He speaks truth, Regent,” Phyrinia says, smiling. “I would know otherwise.”

 **Very well then,** ‘Masa rumbles, **Be seated, Morning Star. I thank you for your words.**

Aaravos bows, walking quickly back to his seat.

Callum catches the soft sound that could have been a sigh of relief, but he doesn’t have time to wonder about it as ‘Masa is addressing both him and Rayla.

**Now, younglings, tell us how you found our precious miracle and your journey to bring him back to Xadia.**


	7. Interlude: Eli of the Earth-blood

Eli presses their hands into the dirt, willing the seed buried beneath to sprout. A small sapling begins to wriggle up through the earth, twisting towards the light of the dying sun.

Eli leans back, letting the spell fade.

Their uncle’s tree will grow on its own now and if it lived or died would not be their concern any longer.

It’s been two days since their son’s birth, and they still feel shaky, as if the birth-fever lingered in their bones despite their healer’s assurances. Across their chest, wrapped securely in his sling, Pyrus snores contentedly.

Beside Eli, their daughter flops on the ground, bare feet dusty, squinting at the sapling.

“Twenty walnuts says that it dies,” Sala says, leaning down to poke one tendril of green.

“ _Sala!”_ Eli cries, “It’s rude to say such things!”

“What? No one liked him,” Sala says, her dark eyes wide and guileless, dragging one hand through her curly hair with a huff.

“See, mama,” Diawyn says, nodding, “Auntie agrees!”

“Pumpkin,” Eli says, wishing that their daughter had inherited some amount of tact, “It’s not polite to say that in front of someone’s tree.”

“It’s still true though,” Diawyn says.

Eli sighs, standing and picking up their daughter, setting her on her feet.

“Look,” Sala says softly, “the others have arrived.”

Eli looks up, following Sala’s gesturing hand.

Five figures stand at the crest of the hill above them, the sun’s rays glinting off silver circlets.

The Council.

Eli gathers their courage; they are facing the Council as an equal now, rather than as the secretary to an absent councilor.

“Go with Auntie Sala, pumpkin,” Eli says, brushing a hand over Diawyn’s curls, “Mama has work to do. I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay, mama,” Diawyn says, grinning at her as she grabs Sala’s hand.

“Good luck,” Sala offers, turning and heading back down the path, through the Dreaming Forest, back to the outskirts of Ipthe.

Eli picks up the edges of their skirt, lifting it above the dusty road, and walks up the hill.

“ _Greetings, Eli of the Earth-blood, child of Enkii,”_ a musical voice greets them.

Vanna, of the Star-touch, Eli realizes, who has long been in solitude.

“Greetings, Councilor Vanna,” Eli says, “I am surprised to see you outside of the Mourning Grove.”

“ _I will be returning shortly,”_ Vanna says, inclining her silvery head, _“I am merely observing formality.”_

“We’re so glad that you’ve joined us at last,” Councilor Lethe says, smiling brightly, leaning forward to clasp Eli’s hands. The Sunfire Councilor is glowing with delight, her eyes shining like miniature stars.

“Thank you,” Eli murmurs as Lethe steps back.

“This one is glad to see you well, Eli,” Councilor Amrys says, bowing, her wings tucked neatly to her back. “This one had heard that you suffered illness after the birth of your son.”

“A fever,” Eli says, “though I am assured that it has passed. My son. Thank Enkii, was born healthy.”

Pyrus snuffles in his sleep, shifting in the sling and Eli glances down, finding one tiny fist clinging to the fabric, grip tight even as he dreams.

“Any good news in this time of chaos is welcome, no matter how small,” the voice of Councilor Cende rumbles. “We welcome you, Eli of the Earth-blood, to this Council.”

Eli bows to the Tide-bound elf, who stands at the outermost edge of the group, dressed in simple blue robes, his dark hair swept back, blue eyes studying them, Councilor Sybirus of the Moonshadow just behind him.

Sybirus also bows, his pale violet eyes glittering beneath his spectacles. He’s one of the youngest on the Council, a former researcher at the Moon Nexus if Eli remembers correctly.

He smiles warmly at them. “May you serve your people well, Councilor. I rather doubt you’ll be worse than the last one.”

“ _Indeed,”_ Councilor Vanna agrees. _“Let us adjourn to the Topaz Pavilion, we have much to discuss.”_

“Of course,” Eli says, internally wincing at the thought of all the tasks that now lie before them. But, they remind themselves, they’ve basically been doing their uncle’s job for years now.

This will be nothing new, other than they are the one signing off on documents and decisions, instead of their uncle.

Vanna leads the way up the hill, Cende and Amrys behind her, while Sybirus and Lethe linger.

“Here,” Councilor Lethe says, pressing a wrapped parcel of brown paper into Eli’s hands. “A gift.”

Eli unwraps the paper, revealing a silver circlet, a gem of emerald set into the middle. Beneath it, Eli can see another package, this one of fabric, the faint scent of berries drifting up.

“What-?” Eli asks.

“Sweet-berry scones,” Lethe says brightly, “I thought you might like something sweet to munch on while we talk business.”

“She gave everyone a package of them,” Sybirus says as he passes them, heading up the hill to where the Pavilion is half hidden among a grove of birch trees, “I think there is also ginger-root tea, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, excellent!” Lethe beams, taking Eli’s arm, “Come on, before the others take it all.”

“You think they can drink boiling tea that quickly?” Eli asks, amused.

The tea served in the Pavilion is always boiling; it’s been that way for as long as Eli can remember. Their uncle always complained about it.

Lethe grins, mischief bright in her eyes, “I find the temperature quite fine.”

Eli laughs.

Halfway through the meeting, Pyrus wakes as Councilor Cende is debating the merits of a trade agreement with Amrys.

“Good evening, sweetling,” Eli whispers, as their son squints at them. Around the Pavilion, hanging vine lanterns lend a warm light to the room, gentle enough that it had not wakened the babe when they were first lit.

Pyrus squirms, nuzzling at their chest, searching for milk.

“Ay-yah,” Eli sighs, tucking him into their robes, careful to leave him breathing room as he latches on, “Go slowly now, don’t drink too fast, or you’ll get hiccups.”

Pyrus makes a contented sound that makes Eli smile.

In the seat across the Pavilion, Eli can see that Councilor Vanna’s eyes are closed. The Startouch looks like she’s asleep, weary from her travels.

There is grief that lines her face, even in sleep, a sorrow that is bone-deep, unable to ever truly be forgotten.

“I haven’t seen Vanna in years,” Lethe whispers from her seat beside Eli. “I think this is the first time she’s been out of the Mourning Grove in centuries.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Eli whispers back. “The Startouch have suffered much in the last Age.”

“True, true,” Lethe agrees.

Something white and blue blurs past her, landing in the middle of the Pavilion, causing Amrys to take flight to avoid a collision, dragging Cende with her.

A Skywing elf staggers to their feet, golden eyes wide, struggling to catch their breath, dark hair windswept and tangled.

“Her Majesty, Queen Regent ‘Masa, commands this Honored Council to convene at the Sacred Mountain in the Pavilion of Ages in three days time,” the Skywing gasps, “She calls a Clanmeet in a fortnight, and dared not leave this message to a magical messenger.”

“A Clanmeet?” Eli asks.

“Yes, Honored Councilor,” the messenger says. “Her Majesty did not say what for, other than that it concerned a most pressing matter.”

“And she did not elaborate?” Cende asks, as Amrys returns him to the ground, nodding his thanks to her.

“No, Honored Councilor,” the messenger says.

Councilor Vanna opens her eyes, her expression serene. _“The Stars have returned to us,”_ she breathes, _“Light walks among us once more. The winds of change will sweep through this world like a hurricane, and we must hold fast amid its chaos.”_

_Well_ , Eli thinks as the Pavilion erupts into confusion, _that is definitely ominous._


	8. Rayla III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speaking before the Queen Regent is not difficult, per se, Rayla considers as she listens to Callum speak of the crossing of the mountain, of the collapse of the frozen lake and how Ez had risked his life to bring Zym to the surface once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Speaking before the Queen Regent is not difficult, per se, Rayla considers as she listens to Callum speak of the crossing of the mountain, of the collapse of the frozen lake and how Ez had risked his life to bring Zym to the surface once more.

Rayla has said her part, allowing Callum to tell the rest; he’s a more compelling speaker, honestly.

‘Masa has crossed her forelegs, claws idly flexing as she listens. A waiting predator, Rayla thinks, though she knows that the Queen Regent has offered them no harm. She wonders if Zym would be as large as ‘Masa when he was full-grown.

She looks towards the darkened archway, where Queen Zubeia sleeps, the soft sound of her even breaths just audible to Rayla’s elven ears. She’s never seen the Queen up close, though she’s seen drawings of her.

Casting a glance back to the assembly, Rayla can see that Aaravos is watching his son intently, a kind of protective worry just visible in his expression.

Callum turns his head, gesturing towards Rayla, miming the snapping of a band around his wrist, offering her a bright smile which Rayla returns.

He continues, looking back at the Regent, speaking briefly of the crossing into Xadia proper via the Moonstone Path before he pauses.

“Um, how much more do you need to know?” he asks.

**For the moment, youngling, this will suffice** **,** ‘Masa rumbles, **You have made it to our home, and have brought our heir back to us. I am satisfied by the telling.**

She stands, stretching her front legs like one of the great cats Rayla’s seen wandering the high treetops of the forest around Silverymoon.

**This is my decree,** ‘Masa says, **Those who have brought our miracle back to his homeland are to be our honored guests. In three days time, the Council shall meet in the Pavilion of Ages, and in a fortnight there shall be a Clanmeet hosted in the Hall of Tarasius, for much change has been wrought in the world, and it must be a united kingdom that rises to face the coming challenges.**

She looks around the room, her bright eyes glittering, before her gaze seems to settle on someone at the back of the cavern.

**Guardian Eltrim, you are to inform the Council of their summons.** **I wish to speak to them on a most pressing matter.** **I will not trust this news to any magical messenger that may be intercepted. You are the swiftest of my guards, do not fail in this task.**

Rayla sees a Skywing elf with braided black hair, dressed in a simple blue tunic with dark leggings, take wing and dart out the entryway.

**This assembly is hereby dismissed, save the Archmages Samos, Ladwyr, Aaravos, and the younglings Sihr and Rayla.**

Rayla watches as the rest of the room rises, bowing to the Regent before they exit amid soft conversations.

‘Masa waits until the others are gone to speak again. **Come with me,** she says, her voice the low rumble of a distant storm, **I would see my nephew reunited with his mother.**

Zym trots over to his aunt, scrambling onto her snout with glee, easily maintaining his balance as ‘Masa turns towards the white marbled archway that leads to Queen Zubeia’s sleeping chamber.

Callum, returning to Rayla’s side, takes her hand, squeezing it gently.

“You nervous?” he asks quietly.

“A little,” she admits. “I’ve never seen the Dragon Queen in person before.”

“She is a little larger than the Queen Regent,” Samos says, “His Highness inherited Her Majesty’s coloring, though he has his father’s mane and horns.”

Aaravos touches Callum’s shoulder as he passes, _“Come along,_ _Sihr. Mayhaps His Highness will be able to wake Her Majesty.”_

“I hope so,” Callum says. “What do you think, Rayla?”

“Maybe?” Rayla says with a shrug as they follow Aaravos and ‘Masa, Ladwyr and Samos trailing behind.

“How are you feeling, Ladwyr?” Rayla hears Samos ask as they walk down the short passage leading to another archway.

“ _I am well, Samos,”_ Ladwyr replies, _“I am...adjusting. It has been so long since I’ve had the freedom to_ _ **feel.**_ _It is..overwhelming at times._ _”_

Rayla sees Aaravos flinch, though it is minute enough that she thinks Callum has missed it until he speaks in Startouch elvish to his father. Rayla doesn’t know enough of the language to understand completely, but Callum’s tone is one of concern.

Aaravos replies in the same language, casting a look of reassurance over his shoulder.

Callum doesn’t look too convinced, but seems to let the subject drop.

They cross the threshold of the archway, stepping into another cavern, this one lit by glowing moss, vines creeping up the walls, white flowers blooming on every vine.

It’s a tranquil place, one that holds a quiet sanctity to it.

Zubeia rests in a hollow in the floor before them, her eyes closed, her sides rising and falling with the steady breaths of a deep, deep sleep.

“Look, Zym,” Callum says, glancing to where Zym is perched on his aunt’s snout, “It’s your mom.”

Zym’s eyes are wide, and he jumps down, gliding to the hollow, landing just short of his mother’s curled-up form.

Rayla watches as he nudges Zubeia’s snout, breathless with anticipation.

Zym gives a low chirp, rubbing his face against his mother’s, crooning to her.

Zubeia stirs, but does not open her eyes.

With a huff, Zym nudges her again, a little more forcefully, his voice higher-pitched this time, the crooning turning to a sharp cry.

Lightning sparks across Zym’s scales, across Zubeia’s own blue scales, before fading away.

Zym plops down beside his mother, dejected.

**Hmmm,** ‘Masa says, **Perhaps you might talk to her, nephew. Tell her of your travels and in her dreams she may find her way back to us.**

Zym huffs again, curling up beside his mother’s cheek, leaning his head against hers, a faint grumble barely audible.

‘Masa settles against the wall, **Guest chambers are being prepared. You are allowed to come and go as you please for the next few days, though I ask that all of you be present for the Council meeting in three days. Until then, rest, for you have come a long way and some of you are still injured.**

The Archmages bow, and Rayla follows suit, Callum alongside her.

“Can Zym still stay with us if he wants?” Callum asks.

**He can if that is his wish,** ‘Masa says, saying something in Draconic to Zym, who grumbles something back.

**He wishes to stay with his mother for a while,** ‘Masa says, **I will watch over them both. Go now and rest.**

Samos ushers them away, guiding them into a set of adjoining suites.Round lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a warm light over everything. The beds are draped with heavy quilts that showed designs of stars and rivers, fruit trees, and flowers in bloom. Plump pillows lie at each head of the bed.

“The nights get very cold up here,” Samos explains upon Rayla’s questioning glance, “and though there are spells to keep the worst of the cold at bay, nothing beats a thick quilt.”

“How often are you here?” Rayla asks.

“I visit every season save Frostcrown,” Samos says, “It’s far too cold to fly then.”

“How cold does it get?” Callum asks, dropping down on one of the beds.

“Cold enough that your breath will freeze in front of your face if you step outside,” Rayla says.

Callum winces. “That’s pretty cold.”

“ _The Frostcrown of 12,327 SA was the coldest season we elves ever lived through,”_ Ladwyr says, “ _And before it ended, nearly a third of our number had frozen to death. The Greentide following was a somber one indeed.”_

“ _Though none living yet remember it,”_ Aaravos adds, leaning against the wall closest to Callum. _“Many things that were forgotten, should not have been,”_ he says softly. _“Now, we must return that which was forgotten to the memories of our people. Even if it will bring great turmoil to the land.”_


End file.
